


Safe and Sound

by GoldenClover



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenClover/pseuds/GoldenClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes are glassy, blank, dull. Dead. There’s no steady rise and fall of the chest, nothing, there’s nothing, and for a moment, Sledge thinks the worst. But then he grabs Snafu’s shoulder and Shelton jerks into action, scrambling to his feet and heaving quick, ragged gasps and cursing a blue streak and there’s life coursing through him again.</p><p>(Snafu's a Ghost AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Sound

            It takes Sledge all of two minutes to realize Snafu isn’t behind him anymore, and another two to shoulder his carbine, turn, run, and drop down next to him. Shelton’s eyes are wide and staring, a thousand miles away, and he’s not looking at Sledge. He’s not looking at anything. His eyes are glassy, blank, dull. Dead. There’s no steady rise and fall of the chest, nothing, there’s nothing, and for a moment, Sledge thinks the worst. But then he grabs Snafu’s shoulder and Shelton jerks into action, scrambling to his feet and heaving quick, ragged gasps and cursing a blue streak and there’s life coursing through him again and Sledge thinks, _thank god_. He half helps, half drags Shelton across the airfield, throwing himself and Snafu into the relative safety behind a concrete partition.

            Not long after, Burgie and Hillbilly are there too, and _shit, Oswalt’s hit_. He and Shelton watch with bated breath as Hillbilly takes Oswalt’s pulse, then shakes his head. Nada. Oswalt’s dead. Oswalt the kid Sledge went through boot with, Oswalt who was with him from Pavuvu to Peleliu, Oswalt who was going to be a brain surgeon, killed by a bullet to the brain. Ironic. It hits Sledge like a hammer to the gut, his first taste of death. That isn’t to say Oswalt’s the first marine he’s seen killed, far from it, but he’s the first Sledge knew or cared about, and it’s a shock to his system. It’s the first time he realizes that he and his friends aren’t untouchable. That they can, and probably will, be killed by the Japs, by this war. And it’s the first time Sledge thinks that maybe signing up wasn’t such a great idea after all. The first time he realizes that war isn’t all courage and glory, isn’t all honor and heroism, that war isn’t like the movies. It’s not a game, it’s blood and guts and death, and that moment, that moment when he realizes just how wrong he’d been, that’s when the first little bit of Sledge truly begins to break. But he takes a deep breath and pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind, because now is not the time to dwell on it. Not now, in the middle of the airfield, with screams and explosions raging all around him.

            Turning to Shelton, Sledge’s eyes roam his body, sizing him up, looking for some injury, a wound, a bit of blood, but he’s fine. Completely fine. There’s not a scratch on him, and aside from some shrapnel sizzling in his hair and some terror in his eyes, he’s none the worse for wear and Sledge can’t believe it. The guy gets blown six feet high by a goddamn Jap blast, and there’s not even a scratch to show for it. He doesn’t know if it’s a miracle, chance, or just pure luck, but Shelton’s not even got a bruise and Sledge still doesn’t believe it. “You alright…?” He frowns at Snafu, still searching for any evidence, any at all, that Snaf was just blown sky-high. Shelton doesn’t respond for a moment, he’s still looking dazed, eyes glassy and whole body shaking like a goddamn leaf, chest heaving in and out, in and out. He’s pale as a sheet and looks like a ghost.

            But then Snafu raises his gaze to meet Sledge’s eyes, “I’m okay…. I’m okay.” His hands are trembling and Sledge wonders briefly if he’s shell-shocked. “I’m okay.” He says again, sounding like he can’t believe it. Sledge doesn’t blame him. And Shelton’s blinking rapidly, looking confused and scared, like something’s just happened that he doesn’t really understand, and Sledge asks him again, “You sure you’re alright?” Snaf runs a trembling hand through his wild mop of curls, “I dunno…. I guess I am. I must be, right? Of course I am, I’ve gotta be.” He’s not really talking to Sledge, it’s more train of thought than anything else, but Sledge shakes his head in confusion, “How do you not know if you’re alright?” Shelton doesn’t respond, ignoring him. He’s lost in his own head.

* * *

            It’s after that incident that Sledge notices a change in Snafu. It’s nothing big, it’s a subtle change, something that he can’t quite place. He just seems…. different than before; but Sledge isn’t sure of exactly how he’s changed. Is he quieter, he any nicer, any meaner, possibly more jittery? But no, none of them seem right, because he hasn’t changed in _that_ way. It’s nothing visible, nothing obvious. It’s just something Sledge can _feel_ , almost like a sixth sense, and he knows the others do too, but no one mentions it and no one acts like anything’s any different, and it’s just kind of forgotten, and it’s as if nothing changed at all. But Eugene still gets that strange, gnawing feeling in Snafu’s company, the feeling that something isn’t quite _right_ . In the end, he, like everyone else, just ignores it as he and Shelton grow closer and closer and become better and better friends. It’s like Shelton just _latched_ onto Sledge after that moment on Peleliu, watching him like a hawk and appearing almost out of thin air every time Eugene’s in danger (well, not every time. This is war and Eugene’s always in danger), looking worried any time a bullet whizzes by Sledge a little too closely or every time a grenade rolls a little too near Eugene. And Sledge doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand why Shelton’s become Eugene’s watchdog ever since Sledge saved his ass on Peleliu, but he guesses maybe the guy thinks he owes Eugene something for saving his life. Whatever it is, Sledge doesn’t mind it. He enjoys the feeling of Shelton’s hands brushing his, enjoys the sound of Snaf prattling on about everything and nothing in that accent of his, enjoys the taste of the cigarettes passed to him by Shelton any time he’s feeling nervous. And, in as much of a way as Snafu latches onto him, Sledge latches onto Snafu, finding himself needing Shelton more and more as time passes, and he finds himself turning to Shelton more often than not when in need of comfort or when he’s nervous or scared or just needs someone, and, in a way, he supposes, he and Snafu become very good friends.

* * *

            Shelton even gives him a nickname. It happens when they’re trudging through the beating hot sand and sun of Peleliu, beaten down and war-weary. They’re walking, worn out and tired, a pack of broken men and boys, when Snafu sidles of to him. “Saw you readin’ last night.” He starts, glancing at Eugene casually. Sledge, exhausted, doesn’t have the energy to keep up a real conversation and merely stares steadfastly at the ground, “My bible?” “Writin', too. Ain't supposed to write shit down, y’ know. Gives the Japs valuable intel they find it.” And Sledge, deadpan, replies, “Guess I won’t show it to ‘em, then.” Shelton smirks at that and Sledge finds himself smiling, a real smile. He hasn’t smiled a real smile in a long, long time. Peleliu Airfield took all his smiles out of him, so he guesses he owes it to Shelton for bringing one to the surface. Then Snafu, typical, turns and asks, “Got a smoke?” Because what else does Shelton ever ask for? Sledge, grinning to himself, is feeling particularly generous and hands two cigarettes to Shelton.

            That’s when he gets his nickname, his first official sign of approval from Snaf. “Thanks, Sledgehamma.” And just like that, Sledge is Sledgehammer. He’s been baptised and he feels strangely proud, like he’s finally been accepted. Burgie, approving of what Eugene’s been christened, looks thoughtful for a moment then says, in that smooth voice of his, “Sledgehammer. I like that.” And Sledge (no, Sledgehammer now, he remembers) is turning somersaults inside, so proud of his new nickname, and he doesn’t know why it makes him so damn happy that Snaf’s given him a nickname or why he even cares, but it does and he does, and he can’t stop the grin on his face, laughing when Leyden exclaims in disgust, “ _Jesus Christ_ .” He feels like a stupid schoolboy, but he wants to taunt Bill, singing _ha ha, I’ve got a nickname and you don’t, na na na na na._

            And Snafu, sharp as ever, only responds, “Don't worry, we got a nickname for you too, Bill Leyden,” slurring Leyden’s name together so it sounds like just one word, “We call you Ball-Peen Hammer. Like a little hammer, for a little man.” Sledge laughs to himself and sticks a smoke in his mouth as Leyden sneers and retorts, “All right, Snafu. Shit 'n' ass... fuck-up.” Sledge almost bursts out laughing because it’s just such a Leyden thing to say. “Little joke from the little man,” Shelton sniggers, and they all smile, and for a moment, Sledge feels content. Not happy, but content. There’s something strangely warm and comforting about knocking shoulders with Snafu and being given a nickname and being able to laugh and smile and not feel so broken, and Sledge is grateful to Shelton for that.

            Shelton’s still next to him, but the smile’s gone from his face and he’s looking oddly contemplative, staring off into space while puffs of smoke escape his cigarette and float vaguely away with the wind. The look on his face is at both times wistful and pensive, and Eugene doesn’t understand it. Then something catches his eye. Shelton’s dog tag catches in the sunshine, and glints in the late afternoon light. His dog tag. Shelton’s only wearing one dog tag. “Snaf…?” Shelton doesn’t really look at him, lost in thought, “Whassat, Sledgehamma?” Sledge frowns at Snafu’s dogtag, trying to figure it out, “Snaf…. Where’s your other dog tag?” That get’s Shelton’s attention. He looks up sharply, jerked out of wherever he was, “Whaddya mean?” Snafu clears his throat, looking almost uneasy. “Your other dog tag. You’re only wearing one dog tag, Snaf.” Sledge states calmly. “Oh… I dunno.” Shelton’s still got that nervous look on his face, and he folds his arms around his chest  defensively, as if to shield his dog tags (no, dog tag) from view, “Musta fallen off or somethin’.” Eugene makes a face at that, because he’s pretty sure dog tags don’t just fall off. Whatever. It’s just Snafu being Snafu, so he decides to think nothing of it and eventually forgets all about it.

* * *

             They’ve taken Peleliu Airfield and they’re all sitting around, not quite sure what to do next, when some boot comes up to them and asks if they’ve got any Jap souvenirs, and that he’ll pay good money. Sledge finds himself almost laughing at the gall of the kid, and Leyden, as usual, makes some snarky remark. But Eugene’s got to give it to the guy, at least he’s persistent, and he insists that he can’t go home empty handed. That’s when Snafu edges in with a disturbing, “Ain’t nobody goin’ home.” And he says it so casually, but with so much conviction, that it sends shivers down Sledge’s spine and makes him wonder, _does Snafu really believe that? Does he truly believe that he’s never getting out of the Pacific?_ He frowns at Shelton, trying his damndest to figure out Snaf’s train of thought.

            Shelton’s comment shuts the kid up and he walks away, looking almost frightened, and Sledge turns to Snaf. “You didn’t really mean that, did you, Snafu?” Shelton’s ignoring him, picking at a sore on his foot and trying to look nonchalant, “‘Course I did, Sledgehamma, ‘cause it’s true. Ain’t nobody goin’ home.” He looks up, staring directly at Eugene now, and Sledge feels uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny Shelton’s gaze, “ _I_ sure as hell ain’t.” Then after much thought, Shelton adds, “You might though, not me, but you might, Sledgehamma.” Sledge almost chokes in surprise just then, because, _“_ What the hell do you mean, Snaf?” No way, no way is Snafu going to die and leave Eugene behind, no way Sledge is ever going to let that happen. Not Snafu, he can’t and won’t let Snafu be lost to this war. But Snafu thinks he’s going to _die_ and Sledge wants to shake him and be angry at him and yell at him, telling him, _nononono you’re going to make it, don’t talk bullshit like that!_ If anything, Shelton’s got more of a chance than himself, Shelton’s more experienced, more skilled at what he does, and if Sledge isn’t dead yet, no way in hell Shelton will be.

            But Snaf just smirks at him, cocking his head to the side and still studying him coolly, “I meant what I said, Sledgehamma,” Snafu tells him, sounding almost amused, “You goin’ home, but I ain’t. Tha’s just how it is.” And he’s saying it very slowly, as if trying to explain something painfully obvious to a very small child, but Sledge isn’t having any of it, “That’s bullshit, Snaf, and you know it.” He spits, glaring at Shelton now, “You’re going to make it through this war and so am I, so’s everyone else here.” Everyone’s looking at them now, for lack of a better attraction, roused by the sounds of an argument. Sledge’s still scowling at Snafu ferociously when Snaf tilts his head back and laughs, loud and derisive, “Sledgehamma, you just kiddin’ yourself now. I ain’t goin’ home and neither are most o’ these guys.” And Shelton’s still laughing when Sledge snaps, “Fuck you, Shelton.” and storms off.

* * *

            Hillbilly’s dead. Oswalt’s dead. Leyden’s wounded. Sledge is starting to see just what Snaf was talking about when he said, “ain’t nobody goin’ home.” Hillbilly isn’t going home, Oswalt isn’t going home, Leyden almost didn’t make it home, and there are still so many more Japs running around, just waiting to kill them off, and Sledge suddenly feels very, very helpless. He could take a bullet to the head any day now, could be standing just a little too close to a mortar blast, could not notice a grenade rolling his way and be blown to kingdom come, hell, the same’s possible for _everyone_ . For Burgie, for Ack-Ack, for Jay, for _Snafu_ , and Sledge doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it. Is there even anything he can do? Are they all just going to die, just like Snafu predicted, all of them?

            Just then, Burgie comes stumbling down the coral, helmet in hands, eyes shining with tears. “Sniper got the skipper.” He announces, voice choked with emotion, and for a minute, Sledge doesn’t believe it. No one believes it, until Jay asks, “Captain Haldane?” And Burgie, helmet still hanging loosely in his grime-covered hands, nods, “Ack-Ack’s dead.” And Sledge’s whole world comes crashing down with those two words. Ack-Ack was his protection, his mental security, his father away from his father. And now he’s gone. Jay’s crying and even Snafu looks shocked. Then, _oh, god_ , they bring the captain’s body down on a stretcher, arms folded neatly across his chest and eyes shut, looking calm and peaceful, and it _wrong, it’s all wrong_. Ack-Ack shouldn’t be dead, Ack-Ack isn’t supposed to die.

            He’s supposed to be invincible, their unmovable rock to lean on when things get hard, he shouldn’t be _dead._ Around Sledge, men bow their heads and remove their helmets in respect for their fallen skipper, one man throwing his in anger; they all stand up as the stretcher passes, holding their hands in a tragic salute and Sledge is reeling, and Snafu’s next to him, looking down at Ack-Ack’s body with a sullen, dejected expression. Sledge watches, tears catching in his throat, the stretcher-bearers carrying Ack-Ack farther and farther away from him, to where Sledge can’t reach him, and he can’t imagine it being Burgie or Snafu the one on the stretcher, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to think that it could happen any day now.

            So he gulps down his tears, closes his eyes, and says a silent goodbye to Captain Haldane, one that no one else can hear, when someone, head bent in mourning, carefully covers Ack-Ack’s face with a blanket, and Sledge, tears cleaning the dirt off his cheeks, almost yells at the person to _stop! stop it!_ Because the blanket means Ack-Ack’s really, truly dead and he doesn’t want to, refuses to, accept that he’s dead; and maybe if the blanket isn’t there, Ack-Ack will blink awake and smile sheepishly, looking embarrassed, and apologize for all the trouble caused, then get up and go back to being their captain. But he doesn’t, and the stretcher disappears from view, and someone yells for them to “get their shit together and get moving.”

* * *

            Sledge is just peeling back the lid of his tin of rations when he hears it. _Plop, plop, plop_ . Soft and sickening, it drills itself into Sledge’s head and he freezes. He knows what it is, but no way, no way is Shelton doing that. Surely not even Snaf. Slowly, slowly, he turns around. Snaf’s perched on a ridge, detachedly tossing pebbles into _a dead man’s skull_ . Sledge thinks he’s going to be sick, because, _what the fuck, Snafu?_ He’s taking deep breaths, doing his best to calm himself down, because _this is not what Shelton’s doing this is not what Shelton’s doing_.

            Then he’s hit with an idea. He takes a deep breath, readying himself, and turns to look at the rotting corpse behind him. Hands trembling and chest shaking with the horror of what he’s about to do, he pushes himself up on an unsteady arm, still trying to figure out a way to square this with his conscience. Then he decides _screw it_ , and climbs easily over the mass of concrete and wood in his way. He pulls out his K-Bar without a swift conviction, the knife making a hissing noise as it enters the open air, and Snafu stops in his tracks, hands freezing in mid-air, “Whatya doin’, Sledgehamma?” He sounds wary, uneasy, so Sledge tells him, all harsh words and determined brows, “Thought I’d bag me some Jap Gold-” “You don’ wanna do tha’!” Shelton all but shouts and Sledge is confused, thinking _what?_ He’d thought Snafu would’ve approved, maybe even cheered him on, but this? It doesn’t make any sense, and suddenly he’s angry. Why the hell does Snaf think he can take all the Jap gold he wants without worrying for a minute, but the second Sledge tries it, all of sudden, _oh no, that’s a bad idea_.

            “Why not?” He demands angrily, glaring up at Snafu, patience beginning to wear thin. Who the hell does Shelton think he is? “I saw _you_ doin’ it.” He says, like a child, telling their mother, _he started it_ . Shelton has no right, no right at all, to treat Sledge like an infant and Eugene’s getting pretty sick of it, not noticing the distressed look on Snafu’s face or the way he’s nervously fiddling with his hands. Then, when Shelton just looks away and heaves a small sigh, Sledge takes it as proof that Shelton has no answer, because there is no answer, there is no reason, as to why Snafu should pick at dead corpses and Eugene absolutely shouldn’t, so feeling rather smug and self-satisfied, he jerks the Japanese soldier’s head towards him in a quick, fluid movement. Then Shelton, eyes big and frantic, calls out, “ _Don’t!_ ” He licks his lips then ducks his head, and Sledge is still staring at the corpse, deciding _should I, shouldn’t I_ , when Shelton adds in a soft voice almost raw with emotion, “You shouldn’t do it.” And he sounds to sure, so upset, that Eugene pauses for a moment, ready to hear Snafu out.

            Shelton seems to think for a moment then says, “Germs.” Eugene squeezes his eyes shut and counts to 10, beginning to feel a little more than peeved and praying for the patience to put with Snaf’s nonsense just a little longer, “Germs, huh?” He questions sardonically, waiting to see what Shelton’s going to come up with next. “Bad germs,” Snafu says, sounding quite pleased with his (or so he thinks) quick thinking and plowing forward, “the kind that make you sick. Real, real sick.” “Bad germs.” Sledge rasps, breathless and unable to believe it, “Bad germs.” he repeats. But somehow, someway, it works, and he lowers the hand with the K-Bar, because really, the whole time, he realizes, Sledge was just waiting for Snaf to talk him out of it. But maintaining his air of annoyance, Sledge turns and snarls at Snaf, “Well, is it alright with you, then, if I take his insignia?” His voice is practically oozing sarcasm, but Shelton doesn’t seem to care. He just shrugs and replies in an unaffected manner, “Don’ see why not.” And Sledge, whole body quivering, slices off the Japanese soldier’s insignia with a shaky swipe of his knife. Just then, he realizes exactly what he was about to do not a few seconds ago, and, wordlessly, he thanks Shelton for stopping him as he stuffs the insignia in his uniform pocket.

* * *

            Okinawa is at both times hot and humid, and ice-cold and soaking wet, and Eugene hates it. He fucking hates it. Right now, they’re crouched in the mud, the damp muck soaking through their uniforms and through their skin and into their bones, setting up the mortar. And _oh god, the rain won’t_ stop. The rain is his constant companion, always by his side, even in his sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, there’s the goddamn rain, and when he open them, _there’s the rain_. It just won’t _go away_. His hands fumble as he gets the mortar ready, when all of a sudden, he hears the _crack_ of a Jap rifle, and _oh shit, there’s a bullet whizzing by him and straight towards Snafu._  He nearly cries out, because _not Snaf please please not Snaf anyone but Snaf_ . And there’s nothing, nothing at all he can do and he’s got his eyes clenched shut, waiting for the muffled _thud_ of Snafu dropping down into the mud and the sharp gasp of pain from Shelton and the cry of _corpsman!_ from Burgie, but it never comes. It never comes, and he opens his eyes at the exact moment to see the bullet _go straight through Shelton_.

            Eugene’s mind is reeling, wondering how the _fuck_ that bullet just passed right through him. He’s happy, uncontainably happy, that Snaf’s alive, because he’d been scared, so scared, that he was going to lose Snafu. But still, _what the hell?_ “Snaf… Snafu…” He gasps out, mind trying, and failing, to make sense of the whole situation. “That - that bullet…. It just went right through you.” He wonders if he’s going Asiatic, if he’s about to start counting Japs, when Shelton frowns at him, “You must be seein’ things or shit, Sledgehamma. I ain’t a ghost, no way tha’ just happened.” He looks up at Sledge, eyebrows pushed together, “You feelin’ okay, hammer?” Eugene scowls at him, feeling patronised, “Yes, of course I’m okay, I’m not seeing things. I’m _telling_ you, that bullet just went right through you.” Snafu shakes his head incredulously, “No way, Sledgehamma, no way.”

            Then it comes to Sledge, why did Shelton feel the need to mention that he’s not a ghost? It’s not like Sledge was _accusing_ him of being undead or anything, but it was the first conclusion Snafu jumped to. “Why’d you say you aren’t a ghost?” Eugene asks him, “‘Cause I ain’t.” Shelton says, plain and simple, “An’ bullets prob’ly go through ghosts or somethin’.” Now Snaf’s shoulders are hunched and he’s acting like he’s under attack, and Sledge chuckles, “Calm down, Snaf. I’m not saying you’re a ghost or anything like that.” Shelton visibly relaxes when he says that, “I know tha’.” he says softly, and Sledge is left with two puzzles to figure out; how the hell that bullet just passed right through Snaf, and why he’s acting so strangely.

* * *

 

            “What do we do now?” It’s a hard question and Sledge doesn’t know the answer to it. What do they do now? He doesn’t think he’s really sure how to go home, put on a suit, scrub his face clean, and go back to being the sweet little picture-perfect boy he was. They sit there in a contemplative silence for a while, passing a bottle of booze around as they all muse over their futures. Snaf’s looking almost mournful, and Sledge remembers, he hadn’t planned on going home. He didn’t think about after the war, because he’d thought there’d be no after the war for him.

            “Guess you were wrong, huh?” Sledge gives Shelton a wicked grin, to which Snaf just asks, sounding rather bored, “Wrong ‘bout what, Sledgehamma?” Burgie passes him the bottle and Sledge takes a swig before replying, “You remember, back on Peleliu? You said ‘ain’t nobody going home,’ you said _you_ weren’t going home.” Snafu laughs at that, eyes suddenly becoming strangely wistful, and when he replies, he sounds oddly nostalgic and almost regretful about something, “No, I ain’t, Sledgehamma.” He lowers his head and for a second, Sledge thinks he sees Shelton actually crying, but then Snaf looks back up and says very quietly, “I ain’t never goin’ home.” Sledge feels cheated, this was his big victory, his _told you so_.

            “The hell are you talking about, Snaf? We’re going to China, then the next stop is home sweet home.” Shelton just grins wryly and doesn’t answer him, and the three of them sit in relative silence until Snafu, breaking the tension, stands up and points to the night sky, “See tha’ line o’ stars anglin’ up?” He asks, dead serious, and Burgie hums an uh-huh, “That’s Snafu’s pecker.” Shelton grins, obviously immensely pleased with himself and Sledge just shakes his head, laughing for all the wrong reasons. For a moment there, he’d thought Snaf was going to say something genuinely deep, but no, it was just a dick joke. “Never change, Snaf. Never change.”

* * *

            The sun is spilling gloriously through the windows and burning Eugene’s hair a fiery red and igniting Shelton’s eyes until they’re bluer than blue, and Sledge can’t stop staring at them until Burgie speaks up, “There’s my little brother.” But he sounds worried as he looks out the window, “No sign of Florence.” Shelton reassures him, telling Burgie, “Melbourne's a hell of a long way, Burgie.” He shrugs, “It'll take Florence a while to get from Australia to here.” Burgie, looking vaguely comforted, gets up to leave, and Sledge feels an odd yearning to be back on Pavuvu, just the three of them. Him, Burgie, and Snaf. Now everyone’s leaving and they’re splitting up, going their separate ways. Sure they’ll write and maybe talk on the phone every once in awhile, but it won’t be the same. They’ll be scattered across America, living their own separate lives and making families and working jobs, and it won’t be like in the war. They won’t really have a lot in common anymore, Sledge realizes. He supposes they’ll eventually drift apart, called back from their youth by fretting wives and screaming children and demanding work hours, and he feels almost melancholy about the whole thing, but, he thinks, that’s the way it is and the way it has to be.

            So he just watches Burgie walk away from him and walk away from his life with a quiet sort of acceptance, when Snaf calls out in a hesitant voice, “Thanks.” And Burgie turns around with a small grin as Shelton smiles fondly, one arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, “For doin' all you did to keep us from gettin' our fool heads shot off.” Burgie looks proud and overwhelmed and very pleased all at the same moment, saying only, “You’re good marines.” Then he blinks at them then walks away with Sledge and Snafu watching intensely his retreating back. “Just you an’ me now, Sledgehamma.” Snafu turns to face Eugene, “You gonna be goin’ home soon.” Sledge rolls his eyes, because, as per usual, Snaf has glossed over the fact that he, too, is going home. “And you too, Snaf.” He reminds him almost teasingly, and Shelton just ducks his head. “How long you reckon we are from Louisiana?” Snaf asks him, changing the subject so eagerly Eugene has to laugh.

             “I dunno, probably a long ways yet. Why? You can’t wait to get rid of me?” Shelton sticks a cigarette in his mouth and stares resolutely out the window, “Naw, just wonderin’.” Eugene leans forward, “What’s your address? We should keep in contact after we go home.” Shelton starts at that, and he looks like a cornered rat, “No… uh, no.” He says, all too fast, and Sledge feels rather hurt until Snafu looks like he’s realized his mistake and hurriedly adds, “I mean, we should do all tha’ shit when we’re sayin’ our big goodbye or whatever it is you wanna do.” Eugene frowns, there’s more to it than that it seems, “Sure, I guess.” Leaning back in his seat, he thinks he’ll just rest his for a minute, he’s awfully sleepy. Soon, he fades away into sleep.

* * *

           Snafu shoulders his seabag and smiles softly down at Eugene’s sleeping form, thinking _I did it, I did what I meant to do_ , _he’s safe_. “Goodbye, Sledgehamma.” He murmurs almost inaudibly, then with a final, long look, turns and walks away. He’s halfway down the middle of the train when he stops and tells himself _go back_ , _go back and say goodbye; say thank you_. But he can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know why, maybe he’s scared, maybe he’s nervous of what Eugene’ll say, maybe he’s worried Sledge’ll try and get his contact information, but whatever it is, he heaves a deep sigh and keeps walking, because he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t know why he shouldn’t, he just shouldn’t. All he knows is that he needed to keep Eugene safe, needed to keep him unbroken and intact, and that meant his innocence as well as his life, and he’d done what he’d set out to do and now it’s time to move on like he should’ve done in the first place. And so he steps off the train, heart still panging with regret, and melts into the crowd and into thin air.

            Sledge wakes up and Snafu’s gone, he’s _gone_ . He thinks that right then, the South Pacific can hear his heart shattering, because Snafu’s _gone_ . He’s seething with rage and aching with sadness, and if he saw Shelton right now, he wouldn’t know whether to punch him in the face or cry into his shoulder, and he’s thinking _fuck you, fuck you Shelton_. He feels alone and abandoned, Snaf’s left him, he’s left him without a number, an address, he’s left him with _nothing_. There wasn’t even a “Goodbye, Sledgehamma, see you when I see you,” He just disappeared without a word and Eugene feels like someone’s broken his favourite toy, and Sledge wants to stand up and smash through the window with his fist, wants to yell with rage, and wants to burst into tears, but he just sits there quietly, heart breaking more and more with every second that goes by.

* * *

            It’s not long after he gets home that Eugene decides, _fuck this, if Snafu won’t come to me, I’ll come to him_. So going directly to the VA office, he sweetly explains to them that he and Shelton were friends in the war and he and Shelton served together and would they kindly give him his address? An office girl rattles off an address in some beaten old town in the backwoods of Louisiana, and Sledge smiles politely, “Thank you ma’am.” Then the girl looks down at the file and says, “Sir, I don’t know if you already knew, but he was-” But Sledge’s already out the door and booking the train tickets to Louisiana, pondering over how Snafu will receive him. Will he be greeted warmly, will Snafu just slam the door in his face? It is, after all, Snafu, and sometimes he does things Sledge doesn’t expect. He muses over it all the long train ride, and no matter how tired he gets, Sledge refuses to fall asleep. He’s found that sleeping on trains tend to have a less than savory effect.

            The train screeches into Louisiana, and it’s not much later that he’s standing on the front porch of some sagging little house out on the bayou with pretty yellow curtains and a big, gnarly tree. He stretches and yawns, trying to release some of the stress and tension, and presses the doorbell with an unsteady hand, arm trembling all the way up to the shoulder. He’s waiting for a long time, and every second allows his nerves to mount higher and higher, and the nagging feeling that he won’t be well met begins to eat at him, and he’s about to chicken out and jump back on the train when an older woman appears in front of him and leans against the doorway. She eyes him suspiciously, “We don’ wanna buy no bibles.” She tells him sharply, and Eugene breaths a sigh of relief. She just thinks he’s a salesman, “No, no,” he corrects her, chuckling, “I’m not selling any bibles, ma’am. My name is Eugene Sledge.”

            He dips his head to her with gracious smile, pulling out all his good breeding and Southern charm. It seems to work, and the old woman smiles back at him, eyes bright and friendly, “Well, wha’ can I do for you, honey?” All the tenseness runs out of his shoulders and Eugene grins at her easily, “Well, I served with Merriell Shelton in the war, and I was wondering if this is his address?” She stiffens at the name, then her shoulders slump, and she doesn’t respond for a long time, but when she does, her voice is very soft and very sad, “It was.” Sledge, taken aback by the sudden change in mood, drops his smile, “Oh… um, well, would you be so kind as to please tell me where he lives now?” Looking up to see how she’s taking his request, he explains “He was with me through Peleliu and Okinawa, and I forgot to get his address or number on the train home.”

            She frowns at him, genuine confusion clouding her features, and it’s the first time Sledge notices she’s got Snaf’s eyes, those huge, beautiful blue-green eyes. “There’s no way you fought with him on Okinawa.” She states simply, and now it’s Sledge’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?” She fixes those eyes on him and responds, sounding almost on the verge of crying, eyes welling with tears, “My Merri…. he never came home from the war.” Here she stops and ducks her head, swallowing a wet-sounding gulp, “An’ he… he was killed on Peleliu. My bébé never even made it to Okinawa.” She breaks down now, sobbing about her “boy, my baby boy, my only boy, dead.” And Sledge shifts uncomfortably, not sure what to do while she’s crying in front of him.

            The woman must be insane, he knows for a fact Snafu did not die on Peleliu, he remembers kneeling with him in the muck of Okinawa, he remembers laughing with him in China, he remembers sitting across from him the whole damn train ride back. “Ma’am, ma’am, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I remember serving with your son on Okinawa. It’s not exactly something you forget.” She raises angry, red-rimmed eyes to his and snaps, “If you don’ believe me, go look in the cemetery. I got enough t’ worry ‘bout with my baby boy dead without you playin’ tricks on me.” Then she slams the door in his face.

            It’s a short walk to the local graveyard, and five minutes later, Sledge is wandering through the rows of dead people, taking in the ancient, moss-covered graves for all the people long dead, their relatives probably next to him, and the shiny, clean graves of the boys lost to the war. There are countless names, countless dates, and countless graves, but he doesn’t see a Merriell Shelton. This just proves to Eugene that the woman was mad as a hatter, and he turns to go when something catches the corner of his eye. There, a few feet from where he’s standing, is a brand-new headstone where someone, probably a family member, has left a bouquet of flowers, and when Sledge kneels down in front of hit, his heart catches in his throat at the words inscribed on the gravestone’s spotless stone surface.

_Here Lies_

_Merriell Allen Shelton_

_January 1922 - September 1944_

_Rest in Peace_

September 1944. Peleliu Airfield. _Oh, god, he really did die on Peleliu_ . _He was dead, he was dead the whole damn time_. Sledge stumbles back, bumping into some graves, and suddenly everything makes sense. The missing dog tag, the bullet, the insistence that he wasn’t going home. But…. how? Why? What? So Snafu was a ghost, Eugene gets that, it’s definitely some horror movie shit, but he gets it, but…. why exactly? Why was Snaf a ghost, why not Oswalt and Hillbilly and Ack-Ack too? Why just Snafu? It’s more questions than answers and Sledge doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t understand any of it. When did he die, for starters? No, nevermind. That one’s easy. It had to have been that moment on Peleliu when Sledge went back for Snaf and could’ve sworn he was dead, that had to be it. But still, he didn’t have any idea about the rest, and Snafu sure as hell wasn’t telling. Sledge smiles sadly at the the gravestone below, “Merriell Shelton, you son of a bitch,” he teases the dead body below, “The hell were you doing?” Still trying to work it all out, Sledge turns and walked out of the graveyard, and he feels vaguely heartbroken that there was no Snafu to pull into a hug and demand answers about the train from, no Snafu to throw him a sly grin and toss him a cigarette, no Snafu to reminisce with. There was just Sledge and a silent gravestone.

 


End file.
